


Mr Mothman/Moth Me A Man

by Ottomatonic



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Ignoring plot points for convenience sake, Kissing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mothman, So it wasn't intentional but I think I definitely wrote Indrid as autistic, Sometimes I ignore future vision but whatever, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27721514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ottomatonic/pseuds/Ottomatonic
Summary: Indrid is a bad omen... Until he's not.
Relationships: Indrid Cold/Duck Newton
Comments: 16
Kudos: 38





	Mr Mothman/Moth Me A Man

Duck was pretty satisfied with his life, he liked to think. Yeah, there was a goddess… lady… whatever always breathing down his neck, and his life was put in danger twice a month, and he had a slap bracelet sword who couldn’t seem to shut up. And most would argue that a single middle-aged man who lives with no one but a cat isn’t exactly to be described as cheerful. But, no matter, Duck was content. He didn’t find anything missing in his life, and lord knows he didn’t need anything added to it. 

That is, until Indrid Cold was brought into the picture. Or rather, forced himself into the picture. By a phone call, specifically. 

It was usually someone else who picked up the phone. That first time, it was Aubrey who had, but Indrid always asked for him. Not that Duck minded. Conversation with Indrid was always… _ interesting _ , and Duck enjoyed it enough that he didn’t notice Indrid only talked to him until a few calls in.

Well, maybe “enjoyed” wasn’t the word to use. At first, Indrid’s voice was an omen. A bad omen. Like “a pizza hut sign is going to fall on a locally owned general goods store, killing three people” bad omen. Indrid had Pavloved his way into making his voice mean absolute dread. But, on his sixth call, something was done about that.

“Duck?”

Duck had taken to spending more time at Amnesty Lodge than one might’ve expected from a man who had been inducted so begrudgingly into the Pine Guard. He was sitting on the couch, exchanging stories about Sylvain and soup (mostly soup. Duck was sure to keep his priorities inline), when he turned his head to where Dani had called his name.

“Yeah?”

“Someone’s on the line for you, it’s a-” She brought the speaker to her ear and froze. Her brow furrowed as she heard the voice on the other end. “Indrid Cold.”

“Indrid Cold?” Duck tensed.

Dani Nodded.

“Fuck!” All thoughts of soup were left at the couch as Duck lept up and dashed to the phone, snagging it from Dani as politely as a panic snag can be. “Shit, Indrid, what happened? Er, goin’ to happen? Where do we need to go? It’s cold outside, fuck. Do I have time to bring a jacket? Fuck, of course you don’t, Duck-”

“Hey, Duck Newton?” Indrid’s voice rang through the panic, calm as ever. Unpreterebed and controlled, per usual. Duck didn’t know whether to be annoyed at himself for being so frantic or at Indrid for being so damn tranquil. “I’m just calling to check in.”

“Check in? Why- am I- is there something wrong with me? Am I okay-”

Indrid had the audacity to laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re in perfect health for a man of your age, and from what I can tell, you shouldn’t be dying any time soon. Or, well, within’ the week, at least.”

“Oh good, that’s uh, that’s good. So we don’t gotta be anywhere?” Duck took a breath and felt his shoulders relax, relieved at having to not go save some poor soul and random piece of infrastructure.

“No, you do not. Where you’re standing is fine. Oh, watch out for Aubrey-” Duck turned his head to find Aubrey a mere couple of inches from his face, also listened to the phone.

“Shit! Aubrey!” He took a step back from her, only to catch that everyone in the lobby was staring at him. It seems Indrid Cold and what came with him wasn’t exactly a secret. Duck felt a bit embarrassed, not used to all that attention on him. He didn’t want the members of the lodge to get all concerned over… what? Chit chat? 

“Indrid, why’d you call then?” He asked, turning away from the crowd. 

“Wanted to say hello!” Indrid replied, like this was a totally normal thing of him. Like all the other times he’d called hadn’t lead to very likely death.

“Hello?”

“Did something happen?” Aubrey whispered to Duck, once again trying to listen in on the speaker. 

“No, everything’s… fine? I guess?”

“I assure you, it is.” Indrid piped up from the phone. “Actually, Duck Newton, I am in need of you to join me at the Ski Lodge. Don’t consider this a mission, I’ll only need you to come. I know you are available tomorrow at 4:00, so I will meet you there. Goodbye.” And he hung up.

“Huh,” Duck said, putting the phone down.

“What’s up?” Aubrey asked, still hanging by. The other members of Amnesty lodge had continued about their day once they’d seen Duck calm down a bit.

“I guess I’m meetin’ with the Mothman tomorrow.”

***

Duck bristled from the outside cold as he stepped into the lodge, taking off his hat to shake off the snow and run his fingers through his messy hair. Thankfully, the ski lodge offers a contrast to the winter, offering not one but two fireplaces to sit by. In fact, Duck notices a white head peaking just above a chair placed by the fire-

“Hello, Duck Newton.” The white-haired figure said, their stare unceasing onto the flames.

“Afternoon, Indrid.” Duck went to face him, only to find what seemed to be a pile of clothes. Well, Indrid was surely within that pile, but with all the layers he wore it the ratio evened out to be, in fact, a Pile of Clothes. Duck was reminded of the book  _ The Invisible Man  _ he was made to read in high school. Every bit of Indrid was covered with thick winterwear. Big black boots were stuffed with thick colorful socks, his torso was fit into what seemed to be a long sleeve within a pullover within a hoodie within a zip-up within a parka and under all that who knows what else, his gloved hands gripped a stocking hat, and most of his face and head was covered in a laughably lengthy scarf, a pair of earmuffs, and of course, those large red glasses.

“You look warm,” Duck chuckled as he saw the usually scrawny Indrid having turned into a Russian nesting doll of clothing.

“Ymph, wmph,” Indrid said into his scarf before pulling it down, “Yeah, well, I’m not really one for the cold-”

“That’s-”

“Ironic, yeah, I know. I foresaw it being a bit chilly out, but foreseeing and feeling aren’t quite the same, as I’ve unfortunately been reminded getting here. I don’t really have uh,” he glanced around, finding no one else near, “warm blood, you see, so it’s a bit more difficult to deal with the climate. I’d never been here for just that reason.”

“Right, so, why  _ are _ we here?” Duck shifted from foot to foot. It’s not that he was uncomfortable around Indrid, but he’d never actually been alone with him. He didn’t feel unsafe, just a tad… naked without the others while he dealt with supernatural bullshit. 

“Well,” Indrid stood, and pointed behind him, “look that way.”

Duck turned his head just to catch Hubert as he came out from the back. “Duck! You’re just in time.”

“Just in time? You been waitin’ for me?” Hubert and him were acquaintances at best and soup blood pact sharers at worst. The only thing he knew about the guy was he had a mean looking face and made a meaner bowl of French Onion, and was also good for a chat from time to time. No reason for him to waiting on Duck for who knows what.

“No, I haven’t, but I just so happen to be releasin’ a new soup right this moment and you seem a good a guy as any to be the first to try it. Now, I know you’re partial to French Onion, but I’ve a good feelin’ about this one.” And Hubert went back into the kitchen, not waiting for Duck to agree. 

“Hubert’s been working on it for weeks,” Indrid said at Duck’s side. “I thought you might like to try it.” He’d taken off some of the layers he entered with, returning back to that scrawny self Duck had become familiar with.

“Now, Indrid, you know I’m ride or die French Onion-

“Yes, yes, I know. Just trust me, okay?” He grinned, which Duck found a bit funny considering his name. It wasn’t nearly as disconcerting as one might’ve heard. Duck knew Indrid and The Grinning Man weren’t the same, and that toothy, sincere smile was further proof of it.

“So, want to sit down?” Indrid asked, looking over the empty dining area. 

“Uh, sure.” And they chose their table in the corner, after Indrid made sure to avoid which ones had the most gum under it, had sticky seats, or which one’s legs were uneven enough to be annoying. 

Soon enough, Hubert came out with two steaming bowls and waters. Placed in front of them, beyond the steam, was a thick, yellowish cream dotted with green speckles mixed in. Carrots and cheese topped it, with a bread roll on the side.

“Oh, it’s broccoli cheddar.”

“ _ Very good  _ broccoli cheddar!” Indrid added. “It should cool in two minutes. Anytime before then you’ll burn your tongue.” He scooted the bowl to the side and brought over his water, taking out the supplied sugar packet from the cartridge near the window, and promptly ripped it open and poured it in his drink. 

“You want some water with that sugar?” Duck asked, as Indrid poured in his fourth Sweet’N Low.

“I have a sweet tooth, okay? And they don’t have any eggnog on the menu,” He said, punctuating his sentence with another sugar packet.

“So soup’s really the only reason we’re here?” before then, he’d never actually spent time with him outside of killing monsters and changing fate and the like. Bit weird talking about soup and what table to sit at.

“I thought you’d enjoy it,” Indrid ducked his head down, taking a sip of his sugar water, gaze locked down on the table.

“No, it’s great! Thank you, I do,” Duck assured, sensing the other’s chagrin.

“Good!” Indrid straightened, smiling, “Eat up then, it’s cool enough now.”

And Duck did.

“Damn.” It was in fact, a very good broccoli cheddar.

***

“Hello, Duck.”

“Fuck!”

Duck was in the middle of walking the paths of the Monongahela forest, as is his job. He thought (emphasis on thought) he was alone, as he usually was. Like a normal person, he did not expect some human disguised Mothman to appear next to him.

“Indrid, I know your future vision saw me jump, I know it did, you cruel, cruel moth,” He said with little heat behind his words, making Indrid giggle.

“I would apologize but that would suggest I regret it,” he smiled, “So what are you doing?”

“Don’t you already know stuff like that?” Duck continued walking, Indrid following in step.

“Yes, but a conversational script makes people more comfortable.” He nuzzled into his scarf and pulled down his hat, once again buried under layers of clothing against the winter climate. Fortunately, it wasn’t too harsh of a day in Kepler. The sun was out and trying its hardest to melt the heavy snow fallen a couple days before.

“Hey, I been wonderin’. You got all those coats and stuff, yeah, but if you don’t generate body heat there’s no warmth to be kept in, right?” 

“Ah, clever analysis. And you’d be right, if I hadn’t bought a whole lot of those microwaveable heating bags and stuffed them everywhere I could. Here, smell-” and Indrid hugged him.

Indrid wasn’t usually the most touchy-feely person. Most Sylphs Duck had met had blended quite well into human society- besides the whole living in a lodge in the forest and hiding your identity thing. Indrid, though, tended towards the outskirts. He found a lot of conversation clunky and repetitive, he didn’t enjoy the same things most did, and he was always careful to keep his distance between him and whoever he was with. Duck respected that, so when Indrid hugged him, Duck was startled to find it was the first time they had actually touched.

It was a weird thing to notice, he had to admit. Duck couldn’t be too sure, but he didn’t think straight guys noticed this sorta thing. Then again, straight guys probably didn’t think their friends look goddamn adorable in their scarves, either. Or about how nice hugging the Mothman is. Ah, Duck wasn’t straight anyway so I guess it didn’t matter.

But, uh, yeah, hugging the Mothman was really quite nice.

Indrid pulled back, “Did you smell it?”

“Hm?” Duck asked, still in a bit of a shock.

“The lavender,” He unzipped and unbutton a section of his man coats and pulled out a cloth baggie, “It’s lavender,” he reached out to put it on Duck’s face, “And very warm!”

“Yes, I can feel it,” he laughed. His face was now indeed very warm, but he didn’t think it was due to the bag.

They continued walking along the trail. It was during the winter Duck appreciated the Monongahela the most. He loved his job all year round, but there was something about the snow clinging to the branches and the stark trunks of each Evergreen and Spruce that was just so damn pretty. He always loved going on walks like this, all alone with nothing but the trees and whatever stupid song’s stuck in his head. He couldn’t deny he liked Indrid being by his side through it all, though.

“So, Indrid, you know why I’m here- job and everything. What’s got you comin’ on down through this literal neck of woods at this time a year? Oh, fuck, is there a bear or somethin’? Bit too early for a ‘bomination-” 

“You will meet neither bear nor abomination today, Duck Newton. I mean, I met a bear, but he’s rather nice.” Indrid’s eyes (er, glasses?) bore into him, waiting for him to laugh at his fantastic joke.

“Oh, ha ha,” It was a dumb joke and the reply was sarcastic, but Duck couldn’t keep the stupid grin from his face.

“And why I’m here… Well, I enjoy spending time with you, Duck. Nothing on Ned or Aubrey or anyone else, but most humans- and let’s face it, Sylphs, too- are a bit tiring for me. All the stuff in here-” He gestures in the general vicinity of his head, “Makes things a tad more overwhelming when paired with things out here.” And he gestures to well, everything else.

“Hm.” Duck replies, not really knowing how to respond to that.

“And not that you’re boring or anything, or like a bland person. It’s just… Easier, I suppose. Not really sure why.” His voice grows distant the longer he talks, like he’d forgotten he was talking to Duck and began thinking out loud.

“Well, that’s nice to hear, Indrid. Feel free to talk to me any time you like.” Duck had to agree. He rather liked spending time with him, too.

“I might take you up on that, Duck Newton.” Indrid smiled, and Duck smiled back.

***

“Duck, you know those glasses Aubrey and Ned took? Uhm, I’m in need of one of them back.” He hears a crash from the other end, and a muffled swearing following.

“Indrid, you all right?” Duck asked. He’d become used to talking with Indrid. They often spoke on the phone since they’d started to spend more time together. Gone were the days the folks of Amnesty Lodge or Duck himself went into a panic at the voice of Indrid Cold. They’d begun to talk so much that anyone around Duck knew that if they heard that lilted voice at the other end, it was for Duck, and no one else had access to the landline for at least an hour as they chatted.

“Yeah, I just-” Another crash, “it’s even more embarrassing to knock things over when you know it’s going to happen- uhm, anyway, Ned and Aubrey took my spare glasses and I need you to bring it back." 

"But-"

"Yes, I know, future vision, seeing things coming, yeah. Could you just? Bring it back? Please?" Duck was planning on doing so, anyway, but even if he weren't, he didn't think he could say no to Indrid at that moment. 

"Yeah, 'Drid, I got ya. I'll be right over." 

"Thank you, Duck. Really." And he hung up.

And it was at that moment it occurred to Duck that he might just be whipped.

\---

"Indrid?" Duck asked, knocking at the RV's front door. The sun had already set, and it was too cold out to hear any crickets. Before Duck could think about what Indrid thought about actual moths, the door opened.

"I want to warn you, I don't look myself. Or rather, I look more myself than usual. Actually, maybe just shut your eyes or something and softly scoot the glasses through the ajar door and-"

Duck had already stepped inside. It was warm (as usual thanks to the space heaters) but not quite uncomfortably so. There was very little lighting within the Winnebago, and all the window shutters were pulled down, but that didn’t hide the broken pair of red mirror glasses in the center of the living room… And the very large Mothman standing over them.

“Hello, Duck,” Indrid said, managing to look meek at eight feet tall, hunching down to avoid hitting his head or scraping his attanae against the ceiling. His mandibles clicked nervously, and his hand fidgeted with his other hand and fidgeted with his other other hand and fidgeted with his other other other hand. “My apologies for making you go through the trouble, and… This. Uhm, may I have my glasses back?” He gestured towards the spare spectacles in Duck’s hand.

“Wait- I mean, I will, don’t get me wrong. I just- what do y’mean, ‘this’?”

“Duck, can you blame me for not wanting you to see me as a giant monster?” His head shrunk into the firry white mane at his neck.

“I seen you before-”

“And I scared you, and you were pretty quick for me to get the glasses back on, if I remember, and I really likeyou guys- I like you, and I-” Indrid slumped, “I don’t want to be scary.”

“Shit, Indrid, Fuck,” Duck rubbed the back of his neck. Indrid flinched as Duck walked towards him, only to sit down beside him on the RV floor. Indrid shifted a bit, unsure, before sitting where he stood: right next to Duck. “I don’t think you’re a monster, okay, that’s horseshit. I mean your feelings aren’t horseshit, you being a monster- fuck. Yeah. I’m not bothered by you being a moth- er a moth… Person- Look, I don’t know if that’s offensive or not or whatever. I don’t want you to go hatin’ on yourself or anything ‘cause I also think you’re pretty damn great and what’s non-human doesn’t subtract from that, y’know?” God, Duck was shit at explaining things.

“But the thing is, I don’t hate myself, yeah? I don’t hate being a moth person. I’m proud of my heritage and my family and everything, and there was a time where I was allowed to be proud of that. Having to wear a human suit is just… So damn annoying sometimes. Like I haven’t flown in forever. I miss that.” Moth eyes didn’t have irises or anything, and moth features (at least from Duck could tell) were pretty unchanging, but Indrid was positively downcast, and it made Duck’s heartstrings pull. He’d never stopped to realize what it must’ve been like being a Sylph. He thought being a “Chosen One” in a human world was bad, he couldn’t imagine being an alien in it. Though he couldn’t really pinpoint if he did anything wrong, looking privilege in the face never failed to make a guy feel like an asshole.

“Hey, I’m uh, gonna hug you now.”

“What-”

And Duck hugged Indrid. It was nicer than he’d expected. He didn’t expect it to be bad, per se, just didn’t expect hugging a bug (is that offensive?) to be so soft and solid. He did think it a bit odd when not two but four arms wrapped around him as well, but he thought he could get used to it.

“Hey, Indrid,” he said, pulling back, “Put on your glasses, for a sec.”

“Um, alright,” And he put on the crimson glasses. In a flash of matter and flesh and magical stuff Duck didn’t know or care to describe, the spot where the giant Mothman had sat there was now a human Indrid Cold. Scrawny, generally apprehensive, and goddamn adorable.

“Nice,” and Duck kissed him. Duck wasn’t a man of words by any means, so the best way he knew how to describe it was “Fan-fucking-tastic.” He felt the nudging of the glasses as Indrid exhaled from his nose, making Duck lightly laugh in his throat. 

“Sorry I made you put your glasses back on, I’m not real confident kissin’ a moth just yet. Not afraid of learnin’ how, though.” Duck said, putting an inch of space between them.

“Well, I think you at least you have kissing a human down pretty well.” Indrid was grinning so hard, he rubbed at his cheek to try to get it to calm down, “I uh, haven’t done this in a very long time.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Duck breathed, and leaned in again.

They kissed on the floor of the dimly lit Winnebago. Duck moved his hands from Indrid’s face to his hips and pulled him closer, setting him on his lap. Indrid caressed his neck and brought the other to his back, lightly scraping his nails along his spine, making Duck groan. Indrid pressed his chest further into Duck’s, making him lean harder into the wall. They made out like teenagers- or, two very happy and pent up 40-year-old-ish men.

Indrid pulled, catching his breath. “There’s going to be a blizzard tonight, and going out would increase the likelihood of danger than if you were to stay-”

“You planned all this out didn’t you?” Duck smiled.

“I actually did break my glasses- tripped too caught up in visions- but uh,” He looked sheepish, “Yes, yes I did.”

Duck fiddled with the hem of Indrid’s tanktop, “Looks like I’m gonna have to repay you for that.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he hummed, and continued their embrace.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I really, really, really appreciate feedback of any kind, so if you have anything to say- good or constructive- it would mean the world to me.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ottomatonic


End file.
